


it’s saturday, my dudes

by redrocketracer



Category: South Park
Genre: Aquariums, Best Friends, Breakups, Day trips, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, To (possibly) lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 18:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14478822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrocketracer/pseuds/redrocketracer
Summary: Craig follows after, taking a seat on the ledge and dipping his hand in. Clyde looks over at him. Craig’s dark lashes falling in front of hazel eyes, kissing the apples of his cheeks. His pink lips parted ever so slightly, upturned gently.He’s beautiful.Clyde always thought so, honestly. He’s never articulated this, never knew how to say so. Somehow he thought it’d be weird to tell Craig, as he was with Tweek. Maybe Craig needs to hear it.“Tweek left a dime.” Clyde says in his usual, dry nasal. Craig looks up at him, perplexed as to what Clyde is talking about.“What?”ORTweek breaks up with Craig to pursue going to college for acting. Clyde supports and loves Craig the best way he can.





	it’s saturday, my dudes

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been meaning to write more cryde so here it is?? I hope you guys enjoy this :)

It’s an ugly bike.

Worn down, bright red paint rusted off. Clyde loves the damn thing, though. He stuffs it into the bushes in front of the Tucker residence. No one would really steal it, he knows this. But it’s an impulsive thing. Clyde has found himself here at Craig’s house for years and years. This one routine won’t change, though many things are about to.

He pulls out the key Laura gave to him from his pocket, opening the front door.

The house is eerie quiet. Just the sound of some weird indie punk band Craig likes. It’s muffled from the confines of Craig’s room. Joyce Manor, Clyde thinks the name of them is. He recognizes the vocalist, the familiar beating of drums and strumming of guitar. It’s louder as he climbs the steps up to Craig’s room.

Clyde awkwardly stands in front of Craig’s door. He shouldn’t feel so strange about entering without warning, he does it all the time. However, his phone sits in his pocket with that one vague text that Clyde had to read over and over. Just to make sure he got it right.

_He broke up with me_

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Tweek has been talking about how he wants to pursue a career in acting for piss knows how long. Clyde remembers seeing the college pamphlets, schools in New York and California. Even though he didn’t think anything of it at that time. He never really thinks too much into anything, Craig was always the more analytical of the two.

Clyde lets out a sigh and turns the doorknob, stepping into Craig’s room. It’s dimly lit, just moonshine filtering in through blinds and the light from Craig’s phone.

“Hey, dude.” Clyde announces himself. Craig is bundled up in blankets, his eyes closed; facing away from Clyde. Clyde crosses the distance and pulls the covers from where it was tucked under Craig. He slips himself beneath the comforter, letting his arm fall around Craig’s thin frame.

He’s always been small, except in height. Clyde used to joke that he could wrap his arms and legs around Craig three, four times.

Craig’s favorite chullo hat is discarded, lost somewhere underneath the sheets. Clyde buries his nose into sweet smelling, black hair.

He feels for Craig’s phone, hitting the pause button on Joyce Manor, his foot brushes against Craig’s ankle. They’re legs tangle together. It’s not the first time they have laid in bed together, probably not the last.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Craig mumbles out. Clyde closes his eyes, his thumb rubbing into Craig’s tummy.

“Ok.” Clyde responds. He wouldn’t know what to say, anyways. Sometimes Clyde has moments of wisdom. Most of the time though, he’s quiet and listens. Anything too serious is hard, he’d rather send a distressed person a meme and hope it makes them laugh. Sometimes with Craig that works, right now though? Clyde knows he just needs this.

Comfort and dark. Quiet and the warmth of his best friend, the feeling of chubby fingers running through soft black locks.

They fall asleep like this.

*

Clyde wakes up after Craig. Unsurprising as he usually does. He opens up his eyes to to green orbs looking at him, blankets pulled up to cover Craig’s pink mouth.

“Morning,” Clyde drawls, a yawn falling from his lips. Craig shuts his lids and moves to bury his face into the crook of Clyde’s neck.

Clyde pats Craig’s shoulder, then rests that hand there. He can feel dampness on his exposed flesh. Clyde opts not to say anything about it though.

“Come on, we should get some breakfast. I’ll make pancakes.” Clyde suggests. Craig lets out a scoff at that.

“No.” He sits up, eyes watery and face flushed in pink.

“I’ll make it. Every time you cook, you almost kill us.” And Craig is right. There hasn’t been a time Clyde tried to make something where the smoke detector didn’t go off, at the least.

“Ok.” Clyde responds. They find their way out of bed, Craig pulling a T-shirt on and some pants. He was clad in nothing but boxers. It’s not strange, or it shouldn’t be. However, Clyde watches. His eyes falling on soft, tan skin.

He never noticed it before, but Craig has a birth mark on his stomach. The area right before it leads to southern region. Clyde takes that information in, he doesn’t really know if it’s useful. He stares openly anyways, Craig doesn’t question it though. Soon it is covered up and Clyde’s eyes follow Craig’s retreating frame as he goes to open his door. Clyde stands to follow after, wearing his work attire from his fathers shop.

Ruby sits in the living room, dressed in little footie pajamas. Karen is next to her, her mousey colored hair splayed across her lap as she stares up at the ceiling. The tv is on but they aren’t watching it. Karen is talking about something or another while Ruby is quiet and runs her fingers through Karen’s locks.

Craig doesn’t say anything as he passes, neither does Clyde. Ruby’s gaze does flick up at the two of them, but she remains quiet.

Clyde can her Craig sniffle, watches as he wipes at his eyes before he goes to rummage through his cabinets.

It’s weird seeing Craig cry. Clyde has always been the tearful one. However, if there is one thing Clyde knows it’s grief. He remembers the salty waterworks not being able to escape after his mother died. Remembers how he couldn’t speak or eat, how he numbly stared at her dead body in its casket. Numbly stared into nothing, as if her physical being was supposed to rematerialized in that space.

Maybe it’s the opposite for Craig, instead of emotional numbness it’s everything Craig stuffs himself from feeling. Clyde didn’t understand his own grief too well, but he remembers how he felt and knows how Craig usually is.

So all he can do is try to make out what he does know.

Which isn’t a lot. Clyde knows what people think of him, dumb as nails. He doesn’t understand why Craig hangs out with him, honestly.

Clyde sits at the kitchen table as Craig hunches over the stove. The smell of butter and sweet pancake mix fills the air. Clyde breathes it in. He realizes he’s really fucking hungry. He hasn’t ate since lunch yesterday. Clyde got the text and rushed over after his shift.

He’s grateful when Craig is scooping the last few of the pancakes onto a plate. He puts half on one plate and half on another. Then rests the two of them on the table. Turning around to briefly fetch the maple syrup.

“I hate Saturday,” Craig starts. He’s cutting up his pancakes into pieces. He’s done this for as long as Clyde can remember. Every sleepover that involved pancakes the next morning Craig would intricately cut up his food. Clyde takes bites out of his own. It’s whole and the syrup sometimes drops onto his fingers and sleeves. It’s messy, and Clyde always has to wash his hands afterwards.

“I know.” Clyde says, taking a bite out of his food. Craig works weekends at the local pet store. Always has, since sophomore year.

“Can’t you get off?” Clyde questions. Craig shrugs his shoulders at this.

“Maybe. I wouldn’t even know what to do.” He responds. Clyde places his fork down. He stares down at his breakfast, than back up at Craig.

“I have an idea.”

And Clyde does.

*  
The benefit of working for his father is that if something is urgent, Clyde can usually find a way out of work. All Clyde has to do is send a text saying “Craig is in crisis. Can I get off from this shift?” It’s an exaggeration, but Clyde has been known for dramatics. His father texts back almost instantly that as long as Clyde makes up for it next Monday, he doesn’t care. ‘Tell Craig I hope he feels better.’

It’s a blessing, honestly. Even more of a blessing when Stan Marsh easily accepts the extra hours. Something about needing the money for something big. Clyde knows Craig doesn’t care. Hasn’t cared about anything with those four guys since they were kids.

The blessing, or pure dumb luck is just what they need, though. Clyde is tapping his finger on the dashboard of Craig’s truck. Craig is inside the local quick stop buying a coffee for himself and asking for gas on the tank they are at. Denver is an hour and a half away. Clyde has been itching to go to the aquarium. When they were in middle school it was exclusively their thing. They’d take the bus to Denver and leave South Park behind, however brief it was.

Craig is tapping the last bit of gas out of its nozzle when Clyde changes the station. It’s all sappy 80s love ballads. Craig’s favorite, though Clyde doesn’t think he needs that right now.

Clyde has found a local pop station when Craig climbs back into the truck.

“Chance?” Craig questions as he starts the engine back up, Clyde grins at him.

“Hell yeah.” Clyde retorts. It’s one of Chance the Rappers less emotionally investing songs, and Craig lets out a hum. A small smile forming on his lips.

‘You don’t want zero problems, big fella!’

They’re pulling out of the parking lot of the gas station and on their way to Denver in a matter of seconds. Clyde lets his hand hang out of the window, wind pushing against him and brushing passed. Craig keeps his gaze out on the road, and it’s quiet but not awkward.

Clyde opts to chatter. Telling Craig about how he’s excited for the new Infinity War movie. About new memes and funny videos on tumblr.

“It’s like. He was like it’s Wednesday’s, my dudes. And then made this noise.” Clyde says this and tries to imitate the yowl that the strange man clad in a Spider-Man costume and goggles made.

Craig actually laughs at that as he makes a turn, and Clyde feels giddy with it. There is some sort of rewarding feeling with making Craig laugh. It makes something in Clyde melt a little, like Craig’s laugh forms some heat that turns Clyde to a puddle.

“That’s so old. How are you just telling me about this?” Craig pries as they pass a sign that reads ‘Denver, next exit on the right.’

Clyde shrugs and fiddles with the station again, looking for something more cheerful than ‘Suicidal Thoughts’ by Biggie. Good song, but not for this moment.

“I know it’s not new, it’s just my favorite.” Clyde says, simply. Craig shakes his head, and Clyde can feel the eye roll.

The rest of the ride is just the two of them shitting around, talking about memes. Eventually the scenery around them starts to change. The buildings are tall and towering, more cluttered looking. Craig knows the way to the aquarium by heart, and soon they are trying to find a parking spot.

“Of course it’s crowded.” Craig mumbles and he passes filled up parking space after filled up parking space. They settle for something rather far from the entrance. Clyde lets out a groan as the heat of summer hits him. He hates the heat. South Park is fortunate to only have one month of warmth, but once you leave the mountain town it’s different.

“Come on.” Craig says, he holds his hand out for Clyde to take. Clyde looks down at it, then back up at Craig’s face. They haven’t held hands since they were kids. Clyde knows Craig probably just wants closeness, though. So he complies.

They walk the distance from where they are parked to the entrance of the aquarium. Fingers interlaced, Craig looking straight ahead and Clyde stealing glances at his best friend every once and awhile.

They pay their entrance fee, and Clyde starts bouncing on his toes from excitement. The first thing they HAVE to go to is the stingrays. There is an open fountain where you can pet them so Clyde leads the way. Craig trails after, their hands still pressed together. Clyde drops the hold to put his hand in the water, feeling the slimy sting rays as they swim passed him.

Craig follows after, taking a seat on the ledge and dipping his hand in. Clyde looks over at him. Craig’s dark lashes falling in front of hazel eyes, kissing the apples of his cheeks. His pink lips parted ever so slightly, upturned gently.

He’s beautiful.

Clyde always thought so, honestly. He’s never articulated this, never knew how to say so. Somehow he thought it’d be weird to tell Craig, as he was with Tweek. Maybe Craig needs to hear it.

“Tweek left a dime.” Clyde says in his usual, dry nasal. Craig looks up at him, perplexed as to what Clyde is talking about.

“What?” He questions, he doesn’t look uncomfortable, really. He’s blushing, though. Clyde can tell. He presses further.

“You’re hot as shit man. And you’re great I mean. You’re my best friend. I don’t know why he’d break up with you.” Clyde rambles on. Craig has his wet hands resting on his lap. You can see where the water left a little hand shaped spot on his sweat pants.

“It happens,” Craig starts, he stands from where he was seated and shakes his hands off. A little girl with red curls bounces up to where he was and claims the spot he had.

“We just fell out of love. Had different goals.” Craig shrugs it off, but Clyde knows him too well. He looks as if he’s about to start crying again. So Clyde grabs his hand, he rubs circles into his flesh with the tip of his thumb.

“Come on. I want to look at the seahorses.”

They continue on like that, hopping to tank to tank. Craig looks out at the sea creatures and Clyde sneaks snapchats of him.

**Took my best friend to the Denver aquarium.**

Craig hates being the subject of photography. It took Clyde forever to get Craig to change his Facebook picture to something other than the red racer logo. Craig has photo album upon photo album of pictures he took, but none of himself.

They run around the place, until they are worn down and need to get something to eat. Craig opts on a veggie burger while Clyde gets a grilled cheese. They sit across from each other, Craig looking down at his tumblr and Clyde sneaking another video of Craig. By the end of it he takes his hand and covers Clyde’s camera.

“Aw, come on.” Clyde whines out. Craig is smiling but he has stuffed Clyde’s phone into his hoodies pocket where he can’t reach it.

“No.” Craig says, simply. He raises his middle finger up at Clyde, and Clyde flips him off right back.

They finish their meal and head to the bathroom. It’s such an intricately design place to take a shit. Craig goes to a stall while Clyde goes to the urinal. Surprisingly the bathroom is pretty empty. So when Craig asks Clyde to go into the handicap stall with him for a few seconds he complies. It wouldn’t look suspicious if there was no one around to think so.

Craig has his hands pressed down into the sides of the sink. He stares at his reflection, and Clyde as he stands behind him.

“Craig?” Clyde questions. He watches as a singular teardrop rolls down Craig’s cheek. Falling down from his chin and splashing onto the porcelain of the sink. Clyde does the only thing he can think of and wraps his arms around Craig, pulling him away from where he is so focused at looking back at copycat.

They sit on the floor of the bathroom stall. Craig turns himself around to weep into the crook of Clyde’s neck. His fingers curl around the neckline of his shirt. Clyde makes shushing noises, running his hands through Craig’s mess of unstraightened curls.

Usually he runs a flat iron through it, but today is just one of those days. So instead it’s a a wavy mess, curling around the frame of his face and sticking up in odd places.

“I feel pathetic.” He cries out, Clyde lets him talk. He rubs circles into his back. Quiet.

“He’s making me lose control of my emotions I...I fucking hate this.” Craig says, Clyde presses a kiss to his shoulder. At this, Craig picks himself up. He looks at Clyde, hazel eyes on brown ones. Clyde reaches a hand up to wipe away the tears that have dampened Craig’s face.

It’s in an instant. Impulsive. Clyde doesn’t know what he was thinking, just that Craig really looked like he needed to be kissed. Clyde reaches up and presses his lips to Craig’s. There is a pause and Craig sits there, frozen. Clyde is about to pull away until Craig presses back.

It’s soft and gentle. Curious, even. They move their mouths together, Clyde scrunching up the back of Craig’s shirt and pulling him closer. So close that he can feel Craig’s heart beating against him.

When they pull away, it’s because of the loud sound of a door slamming shut. Craig looks at the door to the stall for a brief second. Then rests his head on Clyde’s shoulder.

“When I’m better,” Craig starts. He breathes into Clyde’s neck and it tickles him.

“When I’m better. Promise to take me on proper date.” He says, Clyde leans his head against the wall. He stares up at the ceiling of the bathroom, at the starfish stuck to the walls. His stroking of Craig’s hair comes to a halt.

“I. Yeah. Hell yeah!”

They leave the aquarium and the rest of the day is spent driving around Denver. Looking at familiar and new things. Maybe their friendship isn’t new, but the territory they might enter is foreign. Clyde feels a twist of anxiety at the thought of ruining something that is already good. However, he thinks maybe it’ll be alright.

That maybe this was a long time coming, anyways. Clyde is fine with waiting, he’s always been patient with Craig.

 


End file.
